


Wolf Eyes, Hunger and Heat

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bro fight, Courtship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining, RST, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Smut, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 09:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: Farkas doesn't know how to court a woman, let alone his shield sister and the woman his brother has an eye for. By Ysgramor, love is complicated.A/N: Old story posted from the kinkmeme. <3
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Farkas
Comments: 13
Kudos: 167





	Wolf Eyes, Hunger and Heat

He's not used to jealousy he realizes while looking past the training yard at her and his brother banging shields, but the dark feeling is there and only growing stronger with the smiles on their faces when the sounds of their steel rams slam again, trying to knock each other back. Vilkas' taste in women was always different than his. Looks aside, the two of them had always been opposite sides of the coin even when they'd been whelps. But this they had in common; her. Jola.

She talks to him as much as she does Vilkas, he guesses, but his brother always seems to know what to say to make her retort with that wry smile of hers. They banter, and it bothers Farkas to no end.

The dark feeling drains eventually, making way for something pitiful and heartbroken. He's felt this way about her for a while now, maybe even since he showed her to her room when she first came to them all. She'd smiled at him, after looking so infuriated with Vilkas before then, and told him he was lucky to get all the good traits in his mother's womb. She was strange, but he remembered being unable to stop thinking about her that night, even after trying to clean his room for the first time that month.

Now she's more comfortable with all of them. They're all just one big family after all, though being her shield-brother doesn't seem enough anymore. He wants more, and he's not used to wanting more than life gives him.

Another loud clamber of opposing Skyforge steel makes his head throb and he can't stop looking at her towering over his twin with a victorious grin over her face; shield raised high in her winning pose, no doubt rubbing it in.

She looks so small right now, even compared to Vilkas picking himself up off the ground with a well-beaten smile. Though, he figures all Imperials aren't stacked up in size compared to Nords, she's smaller than most though, but full-figured enough to turn an eye in a place like Skyrim. It's enough to turn Vilkas' eye...

Farkas knows that look in his brother’s eye, and it's been there longer than it normally lasts, and that just makes it all worse. He loves his brother, but he's never been a man of one woman, and eventually, he'd get over her...and knowing her dedication to everything she's ever done, he'll hurt her. And Farkas will be left with her, both of them heartbroken.

Her ripe laugh takes his gaze off the half-eaten apple in his fist. Perspiration shines on her face in the low sun as she says something to Vilkas he can't quite hear. They shake hands and Vilkas grins and pulls her into him, making their hips bump flirtatiously. She looks insulted for a second and then there's that laugh again and a tight pain digs between Farkas' ribs at the sight and the sound.

All of this is a situation he's unfamiliar with. Does he tell Vilkas how he feels about her, or would that just instigate his brother further? This has never happened before, but knowing Vilkas, saying anything would probably be the wrong way to go. He's never been merciful with other men after what he has his eyes on.

Farkas is too busy warring with decisions to notice her quick gait up into the shaded benches until her slightly damp hand in on his arm and pulling it up around her shoulders to make way for her to settle down beside him in an act as easy as the morning and the night. He feels heat run up his neck into his cheeks when her legs kick out to rest her leather boots on a barrel beside the bench. She exhales and moans, resting back into him with a peaceful expression he can only barely see.

“Your brother wears me out,” is all she offers when he grunts questioningly. When she's like this, so close and so unaware of what he wants to do with her, he forgets about anything bad – just her.

“He does that,” Farkas replies; eyes on Vilkas' pointed gaze as he smirks, heading back into Jorrvaskr without any worry to her glued position against his larger brother. Vilkas wasn't intimidated by them both...and that only brought the weak feelings back.

“What have you been up to all day. I've been looking for you.” She whispers, nails removing dirt from other nails in a careless manner. Her body squirms and fits her back to his side, face leaning against the cold shine of his armor with a contented sigh.

“Went out with Aela. Farmer had trouble with some bears...” His words trail off when she pulls his arm around her tighter, resting into him with another soft sound. It wasn't the first time she's used him as a pillow, but it makes him lose focus either way.

“Had trouble, you say? I take it you brought some furs back then?” Farkas can hear the grin in her voice, and he too finds his lips prying into a wide smile. 

“Aye.” He hears her chuckle at that, finding something in his tone endearing or something of the sort.

“As if your room isn't full of them already.”

“I'll give you some then,” he says into her hair when her body shifts further up him again. Her musky smell of leather and sweat did things to him he'd probably take all the way to Sovngard. In the span of a second he envisions her wrapped up in his bear pelts, naked but teasingly covered in all the places he craves to see; wearing that smile of hers that says 'come get me if you dare'. The flesh between his thighs betrays him with a heavy twitch, and he has to shudder out his breath to stop from groaning in her hair.

“Mmm...Farkas' pelts upon my bed? Some would say you were courting me,” it wasn't a joke to him but she chuckles and bounces off him to her feet, stretching in a way that makes her seem taller than she really was, and doing little to help the growing burden in his pants.

He doesn't know what to say but knew if he didn't it probably wouldn't have turned out any good...not like if his brother was in this situation. Vilkas would have known what to do and would have done it too...

“I've decided,” she sang, “that I'm not going to bathe.”

Another vision of her in the basin, legs hanging out and body submerged up to the beginning of her nose with hot eyes sprang to mind. She'd be giving that look of challenge again, waiting for him to squeeze into the tub and join her.

Farkas realizes his imagination is getting better, enough that when she looks back at him with a tired smile he knew he was blushing. “Lets hit the Tavern and maybe between the both of us we can clear it out.”

“I don't smell.” He mutters, then pauses and sniffs himself. Well, maybe he did a little. “Least I'm not the only one then.” 

She smiles wider at that and pulls him up by the wrist, doing that thing she did where she twirls so he was holding her waist as they walk down into the training yard to work around towards the Tavern. Honestly, she doesn't smell, more like she smells really good. Without the beast blood, it isn't her crimson or emotions he smells, just her musk...just her.

The jealousy was all but forgotten by the time Farkas opened the door for her, letting her step inside like they were thieving the place rather than setting up a tab of endless drinks. But Vilkas was sitting by the hearth, alone, apparently waiting for them. He looked freshly bathed, warpaint redone and crisp around his eyes, making Farkas' filthy face and smudged armor look worse than normal. It makes the sick feeling well up again. He couldn't compete with his brother, not when he was already getting her a tankard of expensive mead and ruffling her dirty brown locks like they were contented lovers.

That dagger wedged deeper when Farkas stared harder. She was smiling, they were both smiling, sides close and eyes on the other. Were they? He gulped down a surge of despair, feeling the third-wheel as she chuckled at something Vilkas said lowly to her. Could they be lovers? - and he just hadn't noticed it because he was that dim?

“Farkas!” She calls his name and despite it all, he saddles up to her like a pup on a leash, staring down at her with that cloud still in his eyes.

“Yeah?” He asks, feeling even more stupid for how desperate he sounds and how his brother looks at him, noticing the inner turmoil as brothers do.

“Vilkas thinks I underhanded him this evening. You saw it...you can testify my obvious superiority can you not, Farkas?”

“Aye. She got you, brother. Don't be a sore loser now,” he manages it without disclosing much, and she just seems to smirk in that way she did when she'd just proved someone wrong ten-fold, then her drink disappears down her throat and she slaps it down on the bar with a smacking sigh. It was filled up again for her without question and Vilkas urges her on with praise despite her arrogance as she drank her fresh mead.

They indulged in mead, in a way not much different than the three of them did from time to time. Normally Aela or Torvar was with them, but they were in the Rift until Mondas, and the rest held up in Jorrvaskr by themselves contentedly. If it wasn't for the chummy way his brother worked his charm on her, it would have been a great evening. She didn't react to him much, aside from when Vilkas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and bellowed drunkenly how he'd seen her punch a Dragon in the maw. At that she rubbed her cheek as if to cover up a blush, not removing herself from his hold either.

Farkas can't help but sour at the sight. He doesn't take this new feeling well, and it shames him to no end when he actually growls at his brother’s hand in her hair after their third flagon shared.

Vilkas pauses, but she remains oblivious, drinking and enjoying the sounds from the Bard playing their lute exclusively. Both brothers share dark gazes, but only one breaks away first and it's Farkas when she starts to clap her hands at the end of the song. Without the beast, he knows it's wrong to feel this amount of spite, especially for his brother no less, but it's there regardless and Vilkas seems no less ready to stop his game than Farkas is to quit loving her.

He did love her.

She smiled – the Bard playing another lullaby. Her cheeks were rosy with mead, noticeable despite the tan of her skin and the brown of her hair and eyes. She looks beautiful, and the lust from earlier was fading back into the devotion he normally had for her. The longing was growing and so was the desperation to just tell her and get it over with. She was always a woman who approved of blunt honesty, and she'd said she liked that about him more than once.

But then she was being pulled up against Vilkas, his breath in her ear and her eyes shifting as if taking in every word. Then her lips fell and the ruddy color grew over her nose like they'd been painted with cherries. Whatever Vilkas had said didn't matter, it was the way he did it that set the fury in his veins hot. The jealous hurt so much he almost choked.

Without thinking he rose, so quick the thick oak evergreen chair towered back and rattled on the floor, close to the hearth coals. All eyes waned to him, as his fingers clenched into tight fists. He had words this time, but was it really the right thing to say to them? She was looking up at him with wide eyes, so brown and confused and partially concerned.

Vilkas' eyes narrowed and that was it.

“You should quit playing games, Brother,” Farkas spoke with clenched teeth. The anger was fresh compared to what he'd expected. He'd never been this enraged and hurt since the beast blood was still in him, and something about that just made it more real, cause it was all him. There was nothing to blame the rage on. No beast to pass the torch too.

Vilkas stood, letting her shoulder go rough enough that Farkas let out another growl and took a step forward. The threat was there for everyone to see, and that was why Farkas found her darting between them just before Vilkas took that final step closer to him, her hands on both their chest in a manner much like someone twice their size would do.

Her presence didn't stop them though, at least not Vilkas who pushed against her enough to get another throaty warning out of him. 

“Been without a woman too long aye Farkas?” he said accusingly, “maybe you ought to go find a wench to take care of your problem. Wouldn't want you thinking our lass here is used for that sort of thing.”

There might have been a smirk after his snide words, but Farkas didn't bother waiting for it, he found an opening that Vilkas himself had made around her and punched his brother in the jaw without a second thought.

Immediately a fist flung at him, barely missing the back of her head in its off-balanced swing. There were growls like feral dogs, and fists and words only meant to insult on the surface; words fit for squabbling children, not men.

Small but strong hands wrenched him back, pushing him against the door and away from Vilkas, who was outstretched by her hand in his loose shirt and a male patron behind him. Farkas snarled as his brother spat out a glob of blood in the hearth, it sizzled noisily.

Honestly, if they had wanted to tear each other to pieces no one could have stopped them. The fact that Jola and one man were keeping them apart proved they weren't prepared to maim each other.

Brawls were normal, even encouraged, but no one was cheering anymore and no one was laughing, at least Farkas couldn't hear them past the turbulent look on her face; eyes halved, sober and panicked. She'd never seen them fight before, he finally realized as she pants. Her arm is still locked trying to pin him to the door despite him not struggling against her. It's a reflex.

“Farkas,” she starts off with a gasp and continues with a whisper, “let me take you home.”

Her whisper wasn't lost on Vilkas' ears. He'd overcome the beast-blood last and for that could hear them well enough. He said his peace loudly “Aye! Take the lad home, don't want him falling in the hearth and make a fool of himself.”

Farkas feels another growl growing, but the cold air cuts it off as she eases him through the door, suddenly very close and insisting. She has a sneer on her face as if the words Vilkas said were aimed at her and not him.

Away from the Tavern, the anger grows dull and once more he feels ashamed of himself. He really did make a wonderful fool, and the way she's looking at him now only solidifies that.

“I'm sorry,” he says before she can scold him.

Instead of something expected of her, she just shakes her head and pulls him by the wrist down the steps into the abandoned market square. The moon overhead casts everything in a hue of blue that makes her look like an ice queen. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers without any warning as they take the steps up to the blooming Gildergleam. He can still remember how ridiculously excited she was to leave after morning's food to see if the leaves had sprouted, and now it was full and turning a shade of dusky yellow. She'd told him it would go pink within time.

Farkas couldn't find the words so he shrugged as she stops beside the tree with a look like she was shaking off the cloud of inebriation. He himself doesn't feel anymore drunk than he had that morning, which was none.

“You know,” her voice was low as her fingers skim over the bench under the tree, “snowstorms seem like sunny days compared to the tension you and your brother can fill a room with at times. I never knew what Kodlak meant about you two until now.” 

She rubs a hand over her jaw and pinches her cheeks in a mild attempt at losing her buzz. With a pat on the bench, he came to her and sat down with a heavy breath. Again he was reminded how easily she could command him, and how little he cared.

“Have to admit though, it's quite dashing when your all protective.” He looks up at her when she shifts, her leather padding creaking between her thighs that kindles the disillusions again. Farkas swallows and looks down between his legs where his hands lay clasped tightly. She's annoyed and yet he can't stop seeing her in the most depraved situations.

“It's not as though I can't handle your brother when he gets like this,” and she bends down before him, a hand on his shoulder slowly moving over the plates of his armor with a slick sound, “but thanks for it anyway.”

“You like him?” He asks just before a cold snap of breeze makes her shiver, the hand on his armor flexing. Knowing her intentions with the two of them is what he needs. Women, he finds out now, can come between brothers without effort.

“In what way?”

“You know what way I mean,” he mutters in a gruff manner, looking at her leather boots as they shift a little to compensate her bending forward more, trying to catch his stare.

There is silence and every moment that goes by makes his pulse run a little faster until his breath comes shallow and his thighs are burning with the muscles remaining taut in his waiting. And then she chuckles, nothing nasty or stupid, but something of a relief, just like the one she'd given when they put down their first Dragon together. Both of them had mimicked each other’s laughs with bruises darkening, but limbs intact and lives glorified. That was the laugh she was making when her hands shifted up to grab his cheeks and her body falls into him, pushing him back into the bench with his fists reflexively going to her hips.

She was warm with all that leather and mead still in her system, and her arms around his neck pushed the heat down under his armor like a smelter. Her breath wafted against his jaw and he couldn't stop his moan this time. She feels soft under his hands, where her leather armor separates at her hips.

After her laughter settles down she doesn't answer his question. 

“Do you like me, Farkas?” Her voice tickles in his ear, and her breath makes his filthy hair slip along the back of his neck. She smells so good up close like this that he almost kisses her instead of answering her. This is probably going to be the easiest moment to say anything, so he does.

“I love you.”

Her arms loosen for a moment before tightening. All he can hear is her heavy breathing. Small fingers eventually move in his hair, pulling meekly as if they'd never done that before. Suddenly it feels like he doesn't know her like she's this new sword or new animal that he knows he's going to love and just wants to know everything about.

“You know how long I've been wanting to hear that?” She whispers it to him like it's the most important secret in this realm and the next – it makes that weird gooseflesh scatter down his arms and thighs like her words are an infection that's not at all bad. 

He doesn't speak quick enough for her, for she puts her lips to his neck and inhales whatever smells more potent in his mixture of sweat and oil. “I wasn't sure you wanted me as anything more.”

-more than a sister, he thinks, realizing now how she probably thought that for a while now. It was easy to make his intentions known to other women, but he hadn't really loved them...and lust was easier to talk about that love anyways.

“You don't like Vilkas then?” He sounds unsure, he knows, maybe even a bit...scared.

Her lips make his skin smolder where they touch, running up to his ear in a manner soothing and soft. When she speaks it's still quiet but more like the tone she uses when they're hunting; definitive. 

“Your brother changes desires more often than the ocean changes currents. He may want something more, but it will fade I'm sure,” her hand cups his neck and suddenly she's nothing but solid on his lap, hugging him closer, “besides, it's hard to like him so much when I love you.”

The last time Farkas felt such love was when Vilkas had stuck up for him when they were barely men, against a group of guards bent on ruining his reputation over a mis-thrown rock. Yet that feeling was different than this was, stronger even and came with more than just pride...plus she held the love of a woman. The feeling is warm and thick, coursing like a rapid stream up and down his body with no means to cease.

Her lips taste the side of his dirty face, not caring that he train all last night without bathing.

“I'm dirty, you know,” he murmurs, eyes closing and the whole warning about as sharp as a dull blade.

“I like it.” 

More kisses, small and light, follow along the edge of his jaw to his chin where she hums and tugs his own lips down to hers by the hair in her fingers. It's like when she accidentally shocked him when taking out a Draugr in the Carin, but this isn't painful...maybe just as shocking, but the little jolt her lips trace over his are amazing. Farkas groans in her mouth when her tongue slips at the seam of his mouth, teasing inside to touch his own tongue, sending another spike of electricity down his core.

She moans loud, fitting their hips together with a thrust of her pelvis. He'd been hard since she sat in his lap, but now he's sure she can feel it and instead of grunting he pulls her back by the shoulders with a thick swallow. Was this appropriate?

“Heh,” she sounds in slight amusement, “maybe we should just call this whole thing courting and...” those wet lips lean in again, touching the side of his mouth, “head to your room. I'll be quiet. I promise.”

Farkas doesn't want her to be quiet. The louder she is the better, and with a thick arm shoved under her rear and the other under her shoulder blades, he lifts her up in his arms with near breaking thrill. She makes a soft sound, followed by a chuckle and something about him being a brute. He just grins, his heart now beating twice as fast as it should as he takes the steps, relishing in the burn on his thighs. If all of Jorrvaskr knows by the sounds she's going to make, that should be alright too. And if Vilkas comes home in time to listen, that sounds even better.

Farkas can't remember ever being into broadcasting his liaisons, but with her, he wants to rub it in everyone's face. Claim her. Mark her with teeth, intentions, and loud sounds of rutting. Everybody can know.

There's a bar in Farkas' room, the room that Vilkas ignored for his current one now, and it'd be hard to count how many times Farkas has imagined bending her over it, kissing down her back until he could taste her fully. In those fantasies, she's normally squirming ridiculously on the wood, but right now, as she jumps up on the bar, she's just smiling at him and he doesn't know what to do.

“Remember last time I drank you under the bar?” she says low, running a hand on the smooth wood with a cocked smirk, “... Vilkas and I had put flowers in your hair. You smelt like lavender and dragon's tongues for days.”

Farkas found the ache between his legs throbbing in draining patience, but she was staring fondly at the wood, and his hands couldn't just grab her and flip her over...no matter how much his personal beast egged him on. Instead of saying anything he grunts, sitting down on his bed to pull at the tight laces on his boots. If anything, untying them just takes his mind of her crossing her legs on his bar. She's looking at him, but if he makes eye contact he might do something rash.

A woman like her should be lavish with soft touches, not pushed onto a surface and taken without concern. His erection throbs again at the thought and he groans.

“Are you alright, Farkas?”

“Aye.” He says too quickly, nodding to convince her if his word didn't.

“Have you ever thought of making love on this bar of yours?” Her words are so calm, almost innocent if he could ever call it that. There's a wry smile on her face, but she's looking down at her thighs.

“Aye,” he grates out. The warmth in his gut is overflowing and even though he knows she's probably trying to get him to relax by suggesting such a thing, he can't help but take the bait “...aye, a lot of times.”

There is silence and Farkas swallows hard enough to hear it and knows she hears it too. There's always been something about her that both makes him nervous and overconfident, a mix even he can't just accept and ignore.

“Would you like to?”

And then he's up on his feet, grabbing her around the small of her back and kissing her without a hairs width between their lips. She tastes like the sweet tang of mead and sugar from a sweet roll he'd seen her eat at the Tavern. When her lips open he can't help himself, he licks inside at her tongue and pulls it into his with a groan and an added hand in her hair that he uses to press her closer. A soft keening noise from her makes a spike of pleasure catch in his stomach. Next thing he knows she's fiddling with the latches hidden on his sides, pressing him out of the armor without him realizing she'd left his lips at all.

He's dirty, but so is she – and the heady smell of sweat and arousal is enough that their long-gone beast blood still can appreciate the scent enough that it makes them both pant. Maybe, he figures, it can be sweet and sensual next time. Maybe they need this to be brutish and rough, at least he hopes that's what she wants, for he can't see slowing any more.

“Don't,” she gasps between sloppy kisses that miss his lips as many times as they don't, “hold back,” another kiss and the pressure around his groin vanishes when she yanks his belt from him, “just...take me.” And then her hand is in his leathers, wedging inside the material to take hold of his stiff member, pulling him free with another needy sound. He doesn't know what to say. It feels like just a moment ago they were under the Gildergleam, under the moon and... wasn't she suppose to be the infamous maiden everyone made fun of?

“Ahg..nnn!” He growls sharply, teeth-baring and eyes narrowing when she strokes him from base to tip in one fluid move, doing it again when her lips latch back onto his. Her tongue flicks on his lower lip and then she bites and another hard stroke makes his knees shake.

“Farkas,” she gasps on his chin. Her legs wrap around his waist, reminding him by the coarse fabric pressing into his naked sides that she's still dressed. That will have to be rectified, immediately...

The armor over her thighs is tight, but if anything Farkas is stronger by Nord standards and even if a loose seam starts a tear at her knee, they come down to her ankles and he rips the rest off to sink on to the floor before attacking the latches over her chest. He yanks at them and the force makes her body lurch with it, but each time she's thrust up her breath goes shallow and deep. A soft moan comes out when the armor parts and she's left in thin cotton. Where ever her armor has ended up she doesn't seem to care, just shifts forth and brings him close by the strength of her thighs, hands skimming up his naked chest and teasing in the hair that stops under his collar bones.

There lips clash again and inside his mouth she cries needfully at the hand he wedges between them, stroking the damp cloth covering her.

In his dreams this is where he flips her around, pressing her over the bar. Where he slips inside her without care and ruts her senseless. But he can't take her without staring at her, not now, and especially not when she can't seem to stops dragging her lips along his scruffy jaw and licking the dried sweat off his neck.

It's just pulling a string free of the knot at her hip, and then her smalls are gone and she's bare against his throbbing erection, wet and blistering.

“Jola...” he mutters her name and watches her pull back enough to stare with soulful eyes that say everything without words. At that moment he rolls his hips and thrusts, clenching his teeth until he's fully inside her. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead. She is almost painfully tight and only clenching down harder as her body squirms. He's already heard the inner jokes about how she's never lain with a man before, but he'd been a fool to think them false. At least now he knows for sure, everyone had been right. It'd been a jab since she'd joined them, but there’s always been a disbelieving nag about her truly being a maiden. Not now. No, now she's brushing off whatever discomfort he just delivered and is arching up further.

Farkas doesn't need any other confirmation, he pulls from within her and immediately delves back in. The warmth, the snug wetness. It's all as good as his mind had fathomed, and her arms are wrapping around his neck to press more body heat into him. If she was burning him alive, he'd leave a happy looking stack of ash, that was for sure.

Her little sounds started off meek, but one right-angled thrust and a deep, loving sound echoes against his ear. He knows then what to do. A hand under her knee and a thrown leg over his shoulder and she falls back against the wood of the bar with those sounds filling his room and the halls outside.

She's loud, but that's good. Every noise she makes only makes everything feel that much better. Farkas could say with an honest word that he'd always been a giving lover, but in the end, he'd cared more for his own pleasure. With her it was different. He could hold back till the next sundown if she asked. Seeing her heave and lips form the most amazing shapes as he filled her, was...incredible and there seemed no end to them.

She arches and grabs at the edge of the bar beside her head, gripping tight and letting off another loud bark like a keening wolf. They still aren’t far removed from the beast, but that's fine. It's more than fine as she begs him to go faster, saying that she's almost there – wherever it is he's taking her.

The creep of release fills up his balls and under his navel as she whispers that she's close, but he pushes it aside and reaches between her covered breasts to tear the bindings open instead. The soft, modest globes bounce free with his thrusts in the very instant the cotton is out of the way. The dusky nipples are hard and almost painful-looking, as if they'd been rubbing against the cloth roughly ever since he'd started thrusting.

She's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and whether his judgment is clouded by love or not, he doesn't care.

“Farkas...touch me,” a rougher than he'd anticipated thrust makes her yelp and bow back again, “...now.” That's all she has to say and he's arching over her, bucking close and licking unevenly up to the peak of her breast, pulling the teat into his mouth and feasting until an erotic stuttering moan warns him of her release. 

She quivers around his enveloped member, squeezing tight and forcing him to the brink. But he thinks of skinning a deer and the desire to let go fades enough that he picks up his pace as she comes undone with ease. This is her first time with a man, with him, and he wants to make a good impression. For the woman he loves, he can't just give her what he'd give another. Farkas wants to give her everything.

“Jola....look at me,” he say it with a growl that seems to grab her attention immediately, gone is the haze and then she's staring at him alert as ever, “will...” he finds himself at a loss for words as her face falls back into one of pure pleasure, “will you marry me?” 

Once he says it he realizes how stupid he is. Suddenly he remembers your suppose to ask this sort of thing of the one you love before your rutting with them like an animal. He's never been good at words, but even though he can't stop his hips from slapping against her own in desperation, he still presses his forehead down between her breasts in embarrassment.

She doesn't say anything for a while, and each second that goes by he bucks inside harder and fast, as if bringing her to another climax would ease the self-consciousness he's feeling, but then she's gasping and threading eager fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” a breathy sigh, “...yes! I-I will...” she says it loudly, loud enough that if anyone had been listening outside they could have heard it easily. She says it over and over again, and then she shivers and comes again. Something like the sudden release of tension he'd felt upon defeating his wolf spirit hits him as she mewls and chants his name and her answer, meeting his suddenly uneven thrusts with urgency.

Farkas moans on her skin, licks at the fresh sweat that's both his own and hers and keeps grinding their hips until the pleasure becomes too much. The heat and the words and his name and her taste makes him growl and pant. He's coming before he can even register it, and she's yanking on his hair as he spills inside, still thrusting like a mad man and making noises fit for one.

The rush doesn't end as soon as it normally does, even when his hips stop right against her, the heavy thrum of his release is still humming through his body. A bead of sweat drips off his nose and falls down the slope of her stomach to disappear with the sheen of her own, and its the most serene thing he could ever hope to witness.

They're both gasping, much like when they'd sparred together just a few days ago, yet this is even more than he'd hoped at that time. She looks so spent, so flushed and exhausted that he barely finds enough strength to gather her up against him, feeling himself slide out of her as he takes them to his bed.

He falls back unceremoniously, taking her with him and they both let out similar sounds of happy moans.

“Oh...i-if I'm not crushing you,” she says in bated breaths, “let me lie here for a while.”

Her belly is flat against his chest, stuck to him it would seem, but she's smiling wide and gliding a few fingers down the side of his face.

“Sure.” He replies, just as out of breath, but less eloquent than she. He's actually surprised he managed to say anything at all. His hearts still racing like when danger is afoot, and his heavy breaths still don't seem enough, but never can he remember feeling so good. It's like he's been spoiled by her, and nothing else will ever be as good as this sensation ever again.

Soft, warm puffs of breath dry the still damp skin and chest hairs in a small rhythm. Her skin is hot and sticky when he runs a hand down her naked back – the feel makes him swallow thickly as his desire suddenly grows again, but he feels his thighs burn pleasantly and the sweet lightness of post-coital is enough for him to close his eyes and forget about trying for another round.

“Were you serious?” she says when sleep starts nagging at him. Farkas makes a noise he realizes as rude before looking down at her with a smile, he makes another sound that is the same as a 'what?'.

“When you were making love to me,” she whispers, voice dry, “you proposed. Were you genuine?”

“Of course I was.” He says too quickly, almost afraid she'd take every second of silence as a 'no'. It was brash of him to ask though. There was no amulet around her neck, though as an Imperial she may not have known the custom.

Her lips stretch into a smile on his chest and he grins like a fool, but for once he does it for not being a fool but a lucky man. 

“So was I,” she whispers again.

They both lie there, uncaring of anything for once aside from each other. Sleep comes eventually, but not after she falls to his side with soft kisses and wandering hands, both touching innocently and then...not so much while the sleep comes. Farkas doesn't care about the problems for when they wake up, not for the tasks ahead of either of them...just about her pressed beside him with that soft smile buried in his chest.

If he's still a fool, then at least he's a fool in love with a woman that loves him back.

**Author's Note:**

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